


Afternoon

by assassin_trifecta



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dante is a real ass little brother, Domestic, F/M, I just wanted soft and normal vergil fics, Italian-American Sparda Twins, Mundane, i refuse to believe the twins can't cook, kitchen shenanigans, no beta we die like men, soft Vergil, without a whole penis in the interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassin_trifecta/pseuds/assassin_trifecta
Summary: An afternoon, spent almost at home. Tired, with the promise of affection and food, you are content.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95





	Afternoon

You knew that you would be busy when you woke up that morning – that didn’t mean that you had to like or expect the doing of things. You had been _prepared_ to have a morning full of errands – you had even laid out your clothes the night before in an effort to eliminate the temptation of a lazy wake-up. It had worked, but you’d paid the price in the exhaustion that was starting to set in. The bank, the grocery store, home, the library, back to the grocery store, and then off to where you found yourself now.

Devil May Cry was a home away from home, the brick and mortar office of one Dante Sparda, DH, PI, and his brother – Vergil. Most of the time that you weren’t in your own apartment, you were there with the twins, taking their calls and their mail and turning away a few of the more irate customers that you knew they couldn’t help. You didn’t like to boast, but you were sure that Dante’s business would have failed long ago if it hadn’t been for you. And Morrison, of course, but you like to take credit where credit was due.

And sometimes credit was well past due. Like now, as you unloaded the second round of groceries from your bags into the kitchen at the office. Since it doubled as Dante’s – and, sporadically, Vergil’s – living space, the office was equipped with a spacious enough kitchen that, though the boys both knew how to use it well, was often under stocked. Their jobs were lucrative only infrequently, and you found yourself more than a few times stocking up their spartan cabinets and fridge.

That was fine by you, at least. They were important to you, and Vergil had cooked for you more than once for your troubles. You considered that payment enough – their mother’s cookbooks had lingered longer than the woman herself, but they were put to good use.

Tired as you were now, you hoped it would be another one of those nights, but with the boys seemingly absent from the shop you figured it was more likely that they would be ordering something to take out. If they were on a job together it meant that they would both be exhausted by the end of the day, and you were less likely to get Eva Sparda’s award winning lasagna out of the deal.

Sighing, you put away the tub of ricotta into the back of the fridge. Another day, you hoped. Vergil’s sauces were getting even better now that you were picking fresh tomatoes from the planter you’d set up in the back.

“Lost in thought?”

The voice nearly startled you out of your skin. That being said, there was nothing that you could do to stop the inhuman screech that pierced through your throat at the interruption. The shop was spooky enough with all of Dante’s demon talismans hanging around and Vergil’s occult books on the shelves, bound in what you were sure wasn’t calfskin. You didn’t need the twins sneaking around on you on top of it – after all, they could have just been some random demons imitating the Sparda twins. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten mixed up in a mistake like that.

But as you turned around, you knew that it was only Vergil standing there behind you. Even the best of imitations couldn’t perfect the long, fine fingers; the toned muscle of a lifelong swordsman; or the subtle curve of his lips when he smiled just for you. There was no demon that could fake that kind of affection from a man such as Vergil. He stood there in the rare pair of faded blue jeans, a maroon henley hanging off wide shoulders. An outside would have needed a second look to know he wasn’t Dante, but you knew well enough by now that it was your demon who stood before you.

You gathered yourself as best as you could, and smiled in return.

“A little bit,” you responded, closing the fridge door behind you. “I was just thinking about dinner, since I thought you were out on a job I was wondering if I should order something now or-“

Unable to help yourself, your mouth parted in a prodigious yawn. Exhausted from your late night, early morning, and the chores that you had been doing since you woke up, you were getting decidedly closer to forgoing everything except for an afternoon nap.

You held up a hand to excuse yourself mid-yawn, not wanting to offend.

“Sorry. I was wondering if I should order something now or plan for making dinner myself.” You gestured at the bags that were still on the counter. There were pasta boxes poking out, packages of meat from the butcher for cuts that you knew Dante and Vergil both liked. Tomatoes and onions for sauces. The boys ate a prodigious amount of pasta and enough protein to break gains for an elephant. But you’d gotten them fresh fruits as well, and a few of the boxed cake mixes you knew they liked since you hadn’t felt like baking soon.

Vergil glanced between you and the bags, and without question or comment he guided you to sitting at the kitchen table so he could put the rest of the groceries away.

Not one to sit idly by and let the boys do all the work – especially not since their jobs involved laborious hours of actual murder – you popped right back up to help him, taking a bunch of bananas to the hanging rack on your way to the cabinet.

“Ricotta? Fresh mozzarella?” Vergil’s tone was amused when he went to put the latter into the fridge. You turned back to look at him, sheepish while he held up the discovered ingredients. “Is someone craving lasagna?” He smiled at you, indulgent in his affections, and it melted your heart faster than the oven would melt that cheese.

“There are _other_ things you can do with those.”

“Of course, but you’ve purchased a new box of lasagna sheets to go with it.”

He caught you there. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and to hide your embarrassment you turned back to putting away the few cans of soup that you’d purchased into the cabinet. Not a moment later, you could feel Vergil’s arms wrap around you, his chin resting on your shoulder while you reached up.

“If there was something you desired, you could have just told me.” He remarked, his lips soft against your ear, his snow-white hair tickling you gently. “I am but your servant, after all.”

Despite his teasing, you couldn’t help but snort. “You serve no one, my dear.”

He laughed at that, a beautiful sound that you so rarely heard. It meant that Dante was either not home or he had been knocked out for long enough that Vergil wasn’t concerned about his younger brother seeing him like this. Despite the differences that they had put aside, they were still twin brothers, and Vergil still behaved like Dante was the thorn in his side that he had been since birth.

I couldn’t blame him.

But I still smiled, leaning my head against his for a moment before I turned back to putting the rest of the groceries away. Deli meat and cheese in the drawer, milk on the shelf, pasta in the cabinet, beer and soda on the bottom shelf. Vegetables already put away with Vergil’s help, and the few salty snack bags stowed away. Meat in the freezer, except for the packet of Italian sausage that you had left in the fridge, just in case. The boys would be fed for a few weeks, and if Vergil made the promised lasagna, then they wouldn’t have to worry about dinner for a couple of nights.

I breathed in the scent of a comfortable kitchen, and sighed content.

“Satisfied? Perhaps we should get you to bed, now.” The eldest son of Sparda remarked, his arms wrapping around you from behind once again so that he could pull your hips back against his. In any kitchen except for your own this would have embarrassed you, but with Dante packed away in his room you were free to let the pleased hum from your throat.

“I’m sure I will be,” you responded, reaching back to twine your fingers into the soft hairs at the base of his neck. “If you promise to carry me there.”

“Eugh, gross.”

The second surprising voice of the afternoon had you and Vergil springing apart like teens caught in the act. Which, incidentally, was exactly who you were behaving like in the first place.

Dante Sparda stood in the middle of the kitchen with one of the bananas you had just put away, in his hand. He wore sweatpants and no shirt, and his hair was ruffled from sleep. Of course, he had just woken up. How he had gotten there without either you or his brother noticing was a mystery, but you chose not to dwell on that. You couldn’t dwell on anything, really, besides the embarrassment ringing in your ears and how warm your cheeks felt against the cool air of the shop.

Dante snorted, shaking his ruffled head.

“If you freaks are gonna be nasty then do it in someone else’s kitchen, will ya?”


End file.
